The first time Joshua meets the boy, his battery is at eight percent.

For some, this isn't a big deal. Joshua's best friend, Brendon, can get by pretty well on eight percent, but he starts to slow down around five. Most people get slow and sluggish around ten or fifteen. Hyperactive, energized, and strong people can go for longer.

This boy doesn't seem to be any of these. He's leaning against the outside of the Quick Mart, his eyes partially glazed over, the tiny numbered light above his empty plug blinking orange. It's not looking great for him.

Joshua comes to this Quick Mart every day on the way home from school to pick up a soda, maybe a snack if he's hungry. He's never seen this boy before.

Nobody else seems to notice the boy's distress, or they don't care. Joshua shouldn't care, either, but he can't just ignore him.

"Borrow my charger," Joshua blurts out, and the boy slowly turns his head towards him, his eyes still glazed. Quickly, Joshua grabs his charger from his backpack and holds it out to him. The boy reaches out for it, but his hand is shaking, and he's clearly weak.

Without a word, Joshua carefully grasps the boy's cold arm, and plugs the charger into his wrist. The light turns to a flashing gentle green, and the boy sighs with relief. He blinks as the glazed look slowly leaves his eyes, revealing brown irises and big, black pupils.

"Thank you," he mumbles in a soft voice, glancing at Joshua and then back at the charger. It's small, about the size of a stick of butter, and enclosed in a small black case with a cord coming out of it. The other end of the cord is plugged into the boy's wrist.

"Why didn't you have yours with you?" Joshua asks. Most people bring their chargers with them when they leave the house, so they can power up when needed.

"We only have one," the boy says, eyes darting down to the cracked pavement. "Me, and my brothers and sister. We all charge up before school. Mom has to to take it to work, 'cause if her battery gets too low, and she can't charge up, she'll get fired."

"Oh." Joshua lowers his eyes as well. His family isn't rich, but like most, they can afford to have a charger for each person in the household.

"Normally it would get me through the day," the boy continues, after a pause, "but Mom has been working extra hours and I have to buy the groceries now. It's a long walk."

Joshua puts his hands in his pockets. "Do you, um." He suddenly feels a little shy, and he can't explain why. "Do you need any help carrying them home?" He gently nudges the plastic bags on the ground with his shoe.

The boy shakes his head slightly. "No. But thank you for letting me use your charger."

They stay there for a while as the boy charges up, Joshua standing, the boy leaning against the wall. Joshua learns the boy's name, Tyler, and they talk a little about school and family and the things they like.

When Tyler reaches seventy percent, he unplugs. "Thank you again, Josh."

Nobody ever calls Joshua by that nickname. He blinks, then takes the charger as Tyler puts it in his hands and picks up his groceries. "Yeah, of course. No problem."